


The Hallowed and the Damned

by TheFifthBiscuit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFifthBiscuit/pseuds/TheFifthBiscuit
Summary: Gellert isn't expecting much from his stay in Godric's Hollow. Turns out even he can be wrong sometimes.How Gellert met Albus.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [underthemistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/underthemistletoe) collection. 



> My first attempt at writing in the present tense.
> 
> Originally intended as an entry in the Quills and Parchment "Under The Mistletoe" Oneshot Competion. I have more I want to tell in this story but my writing time is limited at the moment because of other commitments and I didn't want to keep my prompter waiting any longer. This snippet stands by itself and I don't want to make promises I may not be able to keep, so please try to view it as a complete story and any extra I add in the future as a bonus.
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Gellert has to celebrate the holidays together in Godrick's Hollow with his great-aunt, Bathilda, after he is forced to move in with her. To say he isn't happy is an understatement. However, his attitude changes when he meets one of his new neighbors...

****

Great Aunt Bathilda is eccentric in all of the wrong ways.

  
Her house is cluttered all over with rolls of parchment, none of which can be moved so much as an inch without her scolding him. The house reeks of her cold remedy potions, she is positively tyrannical about the use of her firewood, and she absolutely will not allow owls in the house. It is beyond unfair that Gellert is stuck here until his 17th birthday, all because of a small misunderstanding at school. Things were not supposed to go this way. He should be finishing Durmstrang at the top of his class, recognised for the brilliant wizard he is, not packed off to an obscure little life in an obscure little village full of obscure little wizards.

  
The village takes maybe thirty minutes to walk across from one side to another, and beyond it there doesn't seem to be much besides snow and the occasional farmhouse, so Gellert has seen all there is to see within about a day of his arrival. Aunt Bathilda provides a lengthy list of chores and maintenance jobs she wants him to do around the house, but none of them are challenging for someone like him and before the first week is out the list is dealt with and they have both begun to tire of each other.

  
Gellert’s aunt is every bit as intelligent a woman as he has been led to believe, but she is used to her own company and very absorbed in writing her definitive history of magical Britain. She is not remotely charmed by his politely interested questions and attempts to make conversation, and opines that a sixteen year old boy ought to be able to amuse himself without badgering her. It's at this point that she suggests he visit the Dumbledore house.

  
“Their eldest boy Albus has just moved back home,” she tells him, quill poised speculatively above her parchment. “Another one who’s too clever for his own good, I imagine you'll make quite the pair.”

  
The Dumbledore house isn't much to look at, and Gellert has until now assumed that it’s owner is as ancient and boring as every other magical resident of the village seems to be, but the closer he gets the more he notices the aura of the place. There is a tension in the air, like the tang of a waiting thunderstorm. He feels the prickle of a detection charm as he opens the gate and the holly-wreathed door swings open before he has the chance to knock, just enough to reveal a boy near his own age with tousled auburn hair and the most piercing blue eyes Gellert has ever seen.

  
“This is really not a good time.” Albus Dumbledore says, and the cloud of purple smoke that escapes behind him only serves to lend the truth to his words. Gellert smiles.

  
“So you’ve discovered that dragon’s blood becomes a little less inert when you mix it with venomous tentacula juice.” he says, and pushes past him into the house.

  
“It’s really not necessary for you to-” Albus sputters, trailing anxiously in his wake.

  
He doesn’t have to go far to discover the source of the smoke; a small cauldron sitting on top of the range, spewing the acrid purple fumes out across the room. Thinking only to get the mixture away from the heat, Gellert grabs the cauldron by the handle and flings it to the floor, gasping as the mixture finally catches fire and the flames lick his hand. There’ll be time for healing once this is taken care of, so with his good hand he begins to rifle through the case of potions ingredients that sit off to one side. Somewhere in the back of his mind beyond the immediacy of the pain in his hand and the burning cauldron he notes the undetectable extension charm on the case. It is not often that he is impressed, but it’s clear that some very fine spellwork has gone into the charm.

  
“Any idea what you’re looking for?” Albus calls, throwing up spells to stop the spread of smoke and conceal it from muggle eyes. Only then does he begin to siphon it away with his wand, and again even in the midst of a crisis something inside Gellert is analysing and filing this away for later. Albus is not careless where it comes to the Statute of Secrecy.

  
“Sea serpent scales for preference, otherwise I’m improvising.” Gellert says, as he gathers a small pile of possibly useful ingredients and a much larger pile of useless or outright dangerous ones.

  
“Fire and water, of course. A little brown pouch in the drawer to the right.” Albus replies, rummaging in a drawer for some reason, while keeping his wand fixed on drawing away the smoke. In moments, Gellert has added a pinch of the scales to the caudron and the flames have extinguished themselves with a loud hiss and a belch of smoke. Gellert sits back on his heels and grasps his hand, groaning at the burn that now has his full attention. He gropes for his wand, only to find that before he can draw it Albus had gently caught the injured hand by the wrist, a small bottle in hand.

  
“I always keep a little dittany on hand.” he says. Gellert relaxes and lets Albus gently stretch his arm out, to get a clearer look at his hand. The other wizard inspects the blistered skin carefully before applying a few drops of dittany and they both watch as it takes effect, leaving only a slight pinkness to the skin to suggest anything has been amiss.

  
“Thank you.” Gellert murmurs softly, meeting sharp blue eyes that quickly turn incredulous.

  
“It’s nothing, neither of us would have been in this mess in the first place if it weren’t for me. Thank you.” Albus says wryly. “And might I ask the name of my saviour?”

  
“Gellert. Gellert Grindelwald.”

  
“Pleasure to meet you Gellert, I’m Albus Dumbledore.” Perhaps it’s a moment where he might normally offer a handshake that makes Albus realise he’s still holding Gellert’s hand. It’s certainly only his sudden awkwardness and flushed cheeks that make Gellert remember, fascinated as he his. But suddenly they’re two boys kneeling on the floor holding hands, and they’re far too self-conscious of the fact and neither of them knows quite how to proceed. Gellert has a few ideas, actually, but Albus drops his hand abruptly and leaps to his feet like a startled animal.

  
“So, er- dragon’s blood!” he blurts, and his continued blush suggests to Gellert that he might not be completely off-base here. “Are you having any more luck than me?”

  
The moment has passed, siphoned away like the vapour, so Gellert sighs and begins to put away the potions ingredients he’s scattered all over the floor. He has been trying of course; now that the reservations and breeding programmes have been set up over in Romania there is finally a good supply line for dragon’s blood, which could prove very lucrative to the person who finds a way to actually use the stuff for anything useful. The puzzle being that the blood of magical creatures usually has several useful magical properties, yet it is incredibly difficult to get any kind of reaction from dragon’s blood. Gellert has indeed been trying, to no avail.

  
“If by that you’re asking if I’ve created several more spectacular disasters than this in attempting to find any use for the stuff then yes, absolutely.” he says, before fastening up the case and standing. Albus laughs, and it’s a hearty one; he laughs right from the pit of his stomach and his eyes light up and yes, maybe Gellert files that away too. Albus Dumbledore is talented, naive, and really quite handsome. It’s a little unreasonable how compelling Gellert finds that.

  
“I’m getting somewhere. Or I was before I was pulled away from the Institute for Magical Materials, and all the resources there. I have discovered it makes a very good cure for acne in the meanwhile, though.” Albus winces. “Don’t ask how.”

  
Gellert wipes a small patch of spilled dragon blood off the oven with a nearby cloth, and is surprised to find it absolutely gleaming everywhere the blood has touched.

  
“Well,” he says, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, “You can probably add ‘oven cleaner’ to your list.”

  
They lock eyes and Albus too is laughing. Gellert opens his mouth to speak.

  
“Albus?”

  
A young voice, a female voice. Albus looks completely thunderstruck all of a sudden, and Gellert is bewildered to see his eyes wide with fear at the sound of a little girl approaching.

  
“A moment, Ariana!” Gellert opens his mouth to ask, but Albus silences him with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry but I need to ask you to go, we’ll speak soon.” he says, and Gellert finds himself being shepherded towards the door. “Where can I find you?”

  
“I’m staying with my aunt, Bathilda. She says she’s a family friend of yours.”

  
With a furtive glance over his shoulder Albus nods and then shuts the door on him, but not before he sees Albus’s eyes in miniature, watching him from the hallway. The air crackles with magic as Gellert crosses the garden and resolves that he and Albus Dumbledore are going to be best friends, at the very least.


End file.
